One of the perks of M's job (and also the downside according to him) is working all over the country. This week he was called to a police job in Kendal and I decided to go along for the ride; the 'Gateway to the Lake District' according to signs on the way. It was also the cliff-side ride of a lifetime. There was just a low dry stone wall between us and a sheer one hundred foot drop the way M decided to approach Kendal. I leaned in, because as we all know that makes a lot of difference!
I had a pleasant half a day wandering round Kendal. I think most towns in Cumbria are dog friendly and I knew that already but it was the first thing I noticed; lots of dogs welcome inside shops, drinking bowls outside for them.
I took these snaps from a moving car. It was a business trip so we didn't have time to pull over just for blog pics! I'm quite surprised they worked at all.
Thos storm clouds soon passed. Sights like this please me a great deal. I really do miss hills now that I live in Lincolnshire.
Kendal had more than its fair share of shops for walkers but it was also well served with charity shops. I didn't buy much but I was obviously in the mood for a bit of Kipling. I read the poem 'If' to M on the way home and managed to get choked up over the last line. I'm sure it's just because J has now overtaken me height-wise and it really feels like my boy is rapidly turning into a man. Pretty good poetry though and there was a bit of my home county of Sussex in there too.
I couldn't leave Kendal without the famous Mint Cake.
My other charity shop purchases matched the mint cake wrapper...
Must be a hippy at heart, I've always loved tie dye.
Marks and Spencer's cotton jumper. Very soft. Think this will get a lot of use... And finally...another mug for the collection (M wasn't very impressed with this one but E has a soft spot for elephants)...
I had change from a tenner and that included four small slabs of mint cake.
By Rudyard Kipling
(‘Brother Square-Toes’—Rewards and Fairies)
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
Source: A Choice of Kipling's Verse (1943)